 S: We should keep this a secret, but all of the forbidding nomenclature of Death Valley belies the truth: this is just about the last large almost-pristine wilderness in the country, easily accessible, now the second largest national park in the U.S., with phenomenal scenery and relatively few visitors. Too hot? Drive twenty-five miles, and gain 3000 feet, and you're in nice temperate weather, thirty degrees cooler than the valley floor. Or walk a short distance to the pool -- allegedly pure and spring-fed, a constant 84 degrees (yet heavily chlorinated). At night, lay back on the picnic table staring straight up at more stars than you'll ever see anywhere else. Much as I like the coast and the trees and the creeks and rivers, Death Valley looks very much like heaven to me. Contents: April 5, 2000S: We mean to get up around 3:30, but I hadn't set my clock for Daylight Losing Time, so we get up at 4:30 instead. Still, the car is all packed, so we're out of here by around 5, and we miss most of the Berkeley-Oakland traffic. S: Quick, uneventful drive down I-5 to Bakersfield, and over the Tehachapi pass. It's such a delight to get over that pass going east, when the traffic, the air, and the foliage finally thins out, and you're suddenly in the desert. S: We'd figured on stopping in Ridgecrest and taking the Wildrose Canyon route into DV instead of the usual Panamint Springs route. We have to find Ridgecrest first. We take a somewhat ill-advised shortcut on dirt roads through a budding housing development, but eventually come out somewhere near Ridgecrest and, shortly thereafter, find the Maturango Museum. Janet Westbrook there posts excellent info on Death Valley and the surrounding desert. Her info page is updated regularly, and is well-written and chock-full of wisdom and useful information. We've had a bit of e-mail correspondence with her before the trip, and though we know she won't be there today, still want to stop in at her museum and drop some money in the donation box. The girl behind the counter doesn't have any info for us on road conditions (Wildrose is subject to closure due to flash floods), but all earlier indicators point to a passable drive, so we choose to go for it. WildroseS: What a great drive! Down through the Salt Wells Valley, the mining town of Trona on Searles Dry Lake, across the wide-open Panamint Valley, and then up over the Panamint Range on a dusty little two-laner lined with beautiful plants and huge and strange rock formations. We stop to look at things here and there, before going up over Emigrant Pass (5300') and then down, down, down to Stovepipe Wells near sea level in about 20 miles.
T: This is a really pretty way to get to the park; during the flat stretch through Panamint Valley we start to see things blooming, and pull over to take a closer look. Unfortunately, we seem to have just passed all of the large morning-glory type blooms by this time; from the park service wildflower page, I'm pretty sure they're "Sacred Datura"). S: A hallucinogen, I believe, mentioned in Carlos Castaneda's "Teachings of Don Juan: a Yaqui Way of Knowledge"... T: Janet's information about the Wildrose route was right, too...at one point while climbing towards the pass, there actually is a spring bubbling up in the roadway (easily passable, looks like a puddle more than anything). It's a nice little windy part around the larger area of the spring, full of many things growing among the rocks. S: My new watch (thanks again, T!) has a sensor that somehow enables it to show the altitude and temperature. I'm not entirely sure it works, as we drive along. It seems to take an average over the previous two or three minutes, so when you're driving, the reading isn't always useful. We later find, though, that it's pretty accurate when you're walking. S: The temperature is in the high 90s when we get to Furnace Creek. We go through the usual check-in procedures. We'd reserved a campsite for three days on the internet, and are pleasantly surprised by the site they give us (#82, but they'll be renovating the campground soon): on one of the outer loops of the campground and with ample shade from the surrounding mesquite. T: We also stop at the general store at Furnace Creek and pick up some post cards. This is one of the many stores in the Fred Harvey enterprise that runs them throughout the southwest parks. In addition to basic supplies and groceries with the usual Death Valley surcharge, there's a large gift-store area. Unfortunately, the gift store is disappointing; I could probably drop a large wad of money on DV souvenirs for people I know, but most of it is just junk. s: Yep, junk. It seems to me there was better stuff in the good ol' days. T: We also find out that, for $2 each, we can get passes to use the pool, which include the showers in the dressing rooms, which is a great deal for campers. We decide to try it out, and get the last two pool passes for the day. The water is really warm (resort info says it's non-chemically treated, spring fed and a constant 84 degrees, but I think that's old/incorrect info -- it's obviously chlorinated, but is wonderfully warm). It turns out to be a real treat to swim in the desert. S: Could be "naturally" chlorinated...This is seriously wonderful stuff. After sweating out hundred-degree heat all over the valley, to rinse off in the shower and plunge into the pool is practically orgasmic. S: We set up the campsite, take the short drive up to Zabriskie Point, and then come back for dinner. (Is that the right order? Does it matter?) S: The people to our left have some sort of cold-fusion lighting device. That thing is blinding, stripping flesh from bone at twenty feet, but they do turn it off promptly at 10. They also have a kid who throws a one-hour tantrum every night around 9:00 like clockwork. Across the way, one of the RVs runs their generator constantly through all of the allowable hours - 7am-7pm. But they can't entirely dampen our desert experience, as after 10 things get quiet and the darkness and silence are more or less complete. T: Some notices posted at the campground entrance include: "Sidewinders have been spotted, carry a flashlight!" and "Coyotes 2, Pets 0"...we suspect, though we are unable to confirm during the trip, that two pets have become coyote food during the season. A campground like this really isn't a good place for the typical house pet, but the RV people seem insistent on bringing everything along with them. They could be parked on the shoulder of I-5 for all they experience of the lovely DV evenings. We don't see any sign of sidewinders during our entire stay, but many people worriedly hurrying towards the restrooms making large sweeping passes with their flashlights. I don't worry about it, but when I do use the ladies room, I always have an evil urge to yell across the campground to Steve on my way back, "There's a sidewinder in there!" I resist. s: And I'm thinking of devious ways to place some sort of step-activated buzzer. I'll throw fake blood on anyone who orders the "Rattlesnake Fritters" appetizer at the toney Furnace Creek Inn. Those snakes have gotten a *really* bad rap. I've read a lot about them. I'm scared of 'em. And I've probably stepped right over at least one, in seven trips through that part of the desert, without even knowing it was there. They deserve their place in the sun just as much as (maybe more than) we do. Innocent creatures, just going about their business, scared to death of us - for good reason. S: Stars, stars, stars! We cook the prawns we brought from home, and then lay back on the picnic table to just stare straight up. Almost fall asleep there. S: Finally, get in the tent and sleep the sleep of the just. The just plain tired. | |
